Shatter War

by Dana Fredsti

  He could see, albeit only a little bit.

  The screen had been put away. The girl lay on her table, a would-be mummy like him. Then the door opened, and the soldiers and Anubis-priests returned. Enkati froze, slowly rolling himself back into position. Careful not to move, he felt hands lift him and carry him out the room. They proceeded down the darkened hallway. Peering over, he could make out the shape of the bundled girl being carried alongside him.

  More priests joined them, and musicians. Voices raised in a sacred chant, accompanied by drums, bells, and sistrum rattles. The procession climbed up and into the open air. Through the gauze Enkati saw majestic pillars looming overhead on either side of a courtyard, ending in a pair of towering statues of Sobek, the crocodile-headed god. His heart raced at the sight of their glaring visages.

  The procession came to a halt. Enkati craned his head. Ahead, a large rectangular pool dominated the courtyard. In front of it stood the High Priest, his robe and kilt made of tanned crocodile hide, and his skin dyed green, with lines of stylized scales. Raising his arms to the sky, he began his invocation.

  O Sobek-Ra, Pointed of Teeth!

  O Petsuchos, his holy image!

  You who have risen from the primal waters of the She-Resi, the lake of Osiris!

  You who carries his children upon his back, who cradles his dear ones in his mouth!

  You who love to steal life from the water’s edge,

  You who eats while he also mates!

  Accept now these our offerings.

  Let your claws seize evil from good,

  Let your teeth tear falsehood from truth.

  Take what life you would have,

  and spare what your mercy allows.

  Feed now freely and partake of your just due.

  The High Priest lowered his arms and clapped twice.

  No no no no—Enkati twisted and struggled as the unseen hands supporting him and the girl brought them to the pool and then cast them down. The two hit the water with a great splash. His feet finding the bottom of the pool, Enkati jerked his head up out of the water, thrashing to stay afloat and free himself. The mummified girl bobbed along next to him.

  One of his wrists began to slip free, but it was still snagged on some fold of the linens. Arching his head, he peered out through the little gap in his blindfold. Water lilies and blooms of lotus blossoms filled the pool, but they were being brushed aside by a long, dark shape. Something was in the water with them, coming closer. He knew what it was. The realization turned him to stone.

  Petsuchos, the sacred crocodile of the temple.

  The reptile was huge—wide as a raft, long as a riverboat, and adorned with gold and gems. The twin rows of spiky ridges down its back were gilded, golden markings accented its jade-green eyes, and a bejeweled collar encircled its neck. The great beast moved slowly and deliberately.

  It knew its prey had no escape.

  Like a fat caterpillar, the still-bound Enkati turned and struggled to back away, but quickly hit the wall of the pool. He wrenched his pinned wrist with all his might, and through a miracle of contortion felt it slip free under the outer wrappings.

  Yes!

  A few more rolls of his shoulder enabled him to snake his arm up through the bindings until his fingers emerged from their prison. Bending his head down, he tore away at the linens covering his eyes and nose. Now he could see clearly… and almost wished he couldn’t.

  As he watched in horror, Petsuchos’s jaws yawned open and clamped down on the bound shape next to him. The girl screamed as blossoms of red erupted on the white linens, every agonized shriek tearing at Enkati’s heart. The crocodile lifted the bundle in the air, shaking it back and forth to tear loose the wrappings surrounding its meal.

  All around the terrified boy, clouds of crimson stains billowed through the water. With his free hand, he tugged and wrenched to release his other arm, the effort painful and maddeningly difficult. He kept pulling until his elbow worked its way through and out.

  No more screams came from the doomed girl, leaving only the sounds of thrashing in the water, the crunch of teeth cracking bone, and above all, the sickening gobbling noises of the sacred crocodile wolfing down mouthfuls of flesh.

  Enkati couldn’t bear to watch. He dove under the bloody water, bending his body to try to free his legs. All the loose strands of bandages he had pulled free swirled about him, snagging him in a tangled mess. The more he struggled, the more they entwined him, hindering his every movement. Though his lower legs were still entangled, his lungs were bursting. He kicked up and broke the surface again.

  The massive beast bobbed its head, gobbling down the last of the girl. Still hungering, it turned its attention to Enkati. Raw fear burned through him as he locked eyes with the reptile. He quickly looked from side to side, searching for a reed, a rock, anything at all he could use as a weapon. There was nothing.

  Enkati was out of time—Petsuchos glided through the water toward him. Desperately, the boy twisted his body and lunged for the wall behind him, stretching up to grasp any handhold, any chink in the stone. His hand found a crack and he strained to pull his body up, the top of the wall less than a handspan above his reach. He just had to stretch a little further… a little more… a little more…

  His fingertips grazed the lip, and then he had it.

  A shadow fell on him. The High Priest knelt down, regarding Enkati with an imperious glare before prying his bloodied fingers off the wall. The boy fell straight into the waiting maw below.

  26

  The Island of Pharos

  Alexandria Harbor

  Early morning – Seven days after the Event

  All night long, ten thousand torches and oil lamps kept the streets of Alexandria lit bright as day. None could sleep with the fabulous Phoenix bird circling overhead. Everywhere the citizens gathered, to gaze up in wonder, to pay it homage, and to debate the meaning of the aerial spectacle. Even Hypatia had to admit she was thrilled by the sight.

  “I’d always suspected that the Phoenix legend was just an idle tale, Aspasius,” she said. “But to behold it with my own eyes… the reality surpasses the ancient tales.” A frightening thought occurred. “Do you think it an omen of the end of our world? Has it come to make Alexandria into its fiery nest?”

  The old Hyrcanian shook his head. “Surely not, Mistress. Its coming is a portent. It will purify the land and the waters, and bestow fertility once again.”

  “I pray you are right, my friend.”

  A servant came up and bowed. “Magistrianos Calix is here to see you, my lady.”

  “Of course,” she replied. “Bid him welcome to please join us.”

  “Forgive me, Mistress, but as he is not catching you asleep, the magistrianos craves your indulgence to accompany him.”

  Hypatia and Aspasius quickly obeyed. The coming grasp of rosy-fingered dawn was still hours away, but she knew she would get no sleep this night.

  * * *

  The prefect hadn’t slept either, but he was relieved to see his most trusted advisor and agent.

  “Thank you, Calix,” Orestes said. “It was good of you to come, my lady. I beg your pardon for dragging you and your servant from your beds at such an unforgivable hour.”

  “There is nothing to forgive, Prefect,” Hypatia replied. “Surely no one in Alexandria has slept a wink with such a wonder over our heads.”

  Orestes nodded. “The crowds outside seem uncertain whether to adore the Phoenix, fear it, or claim it as a proof of the truth of their god’s supremacy. So they do all three at once, throughout the streets and agora. Very Alexandrian.”

  “In truth, Aspasius and I were wondering what sort of sign it might portend.”

  “You are the scholars. What do we know of this creature?”

  “As I recall,” Hypatia said, “the ancients say there is only ever one of its kind, and once it has lived for five hundred years, it flies away from the region of Arabia and comes back to Egypt, to die in flames and rise
from the ashes.”

  “Your pardon, my lord and lady.” With a bow of his head, Aspasius spoke up—something few slaves had the temerity to do, and fewer still would be allowed. “The scribes of my people judge it older still. Our Avesta relates that it lives one thousand seven hundred years before it consigns itself to the flames, and is reborn. We call it the great eagle, Simurgh—so ancient it has seen the world’s destruction three times over, and possesses the knowledge of all the ages.”

  “Can the great bird speak, then?” Orestes’ curiosity was piqued. “Can we reason with it? If it has knowledge to offer us, I would gladly learn from its wisdom.”

  “As would I, Prefect,” Hypatia nodded. “Our sources are unclear, and disagree on many particulars, but whatever may happen now, it is a most auspicious day.”

  A sudden burst of noise arose from the streets outside the Chamber. Calix pulled the curtain aside to peer out beyond the palace grounds, at the city lit by the rising sun. An officer of the watch rushed into the chamber.

  “My lord! The Phoenix has alighted in the city!”

  * * *

  Calix’s slave Onesimus was waiting with the chariot when he rushed down, Hypatia and Aspasius close behind. On Orestes’ orders, an honor guard of twenty cataphract cavalrymen waited with him, resplendent in brilliant scale armor and plumed helms.

  Onsesimus waved to the three as they approached.

  “I saw it! It came down in the Lageion.”

  The three quickly stepped up into the chariot and Onesimus urged the horses forward. With their honor guard alongside, calling for all to make way in the name of the prefect, the crowds parted for them like magic and they swiftly merged into the traffic along the Canopic Way, the main east-west thoroughfare that bisected the city. Despite the glut of pedestrians they took it at a gallop, hooves pounding the hard pavement almost all the way to the Moon Gate before cutting south to the Rhakotis district, the native Egyptian quarter of the city.

  Crowds were already spilling into the Lageion Hippodrome, the city’s beloved chariot-racing stadium, but the cataphracts had no trouble clearing the way for their chariot, the clatter of their horses’ hooves echoing through the stadium tunnel. The boldest onlookers already filled the raceway grounds, swarming around the center where the giant bird had alighted.

  Onesimus pulled to a halt at a safe distance, and the honor guard spread out on either side as Calix and Hypatia disembarked and took up a position suitable to greet the city’s new visitor. The magistrianos and the philosopher had prepared themselves to be astounded, but even so they were shocked by the sheer size of it. The cavalry horses stamped nervously, their scale armor jingling softly.

  Hypatia studied the winged marvel. The massive feathers of its extended wings were more than fiery—they looked as if they were formed from pure light, as was the spearhead shape where its head should be. Its body was gleaming metal. Such a bird could easily carry away an elephant, or even a whale, in its claws—or would, if it had claws. Indeed, it seemed to have no legs at all. Its entire mass, larger than the grandest royal barge, simply floated upon the air. This line of thinking brought her to a startling realization.

  “This Phoenix is a craft that flies through the air as a boat does water,” Hypatia murmured. Calix nodded.

  “Could any man make such a vessel?” he asked.

  “Perhaps,” she answered, fascinated by this new idea. “In a few thousand years after our time. What a magnificent creation!”

  “Or Trojan Horse.”

  The craft had a name, emblazoned in an odd form of Latin letters.

  VANUATU

  Before she could guess at its meaning, the giant craft began to emit first a long, low rumbling sound, then a rising series of three blasts from unseen horns. The spectators backed away and a collective gasp rippled through the crowd. A shocking orchestral sting of trumpets and mighty kettledrums followed, drawing screams and wild cheers from the onlookers.

  As the powerful music faded, a ramp extended down from the ship’s side down to the ground. A hatch opened, spilling out a cloud of fog, pierced by brilliant shafts of light. A hush of fearful awe fell upon the stadium.

  Figures emerged from the ship—two men, pale-skinned like barbarian slaves from the north, both dressed in togas of a glittering silvery material, brighter and lighter than the most lustrous samite. They advanced in stoic silence, simultaneously raising long silver trumpets and blowing an elaborate fanfare louder than possible for any earthly musician. Then, shouldering their trumpets, they stood at attention.

  A young woman came forth, another pale northern slave. She wore a diamond circlet around her free-flowing hair, delicate and ornate bracers of gold, and a brilliant jeweled necklace. Her clothing, sheer as that of an Egyptian temple dancer, was spun of some divine golden silk. With one hand she held a tray covered by a rich cloth, balanced on her hip, sprinkling rose petals on the gang plank with the other hand as she descended, stately as a statue, eyes fixed straight ahead without expression. Reaching the bottom of the long ramp, she set down her tray and knelt with her head bowed low.

  More music sounded, played by a host of invisible musical spirits, and a new burst of light radiated out from the interior as another person stepped out. A commanding figure, with a crown of golden laurel leaves and the air of leadership about him. Around his shoulders was a dazzling cape, seeming to have been woven from captured strands of violet white-blue lightning.

  Standing at the top of the ramp, he wore a toga of snowy white, with piping of gold. His skin was the deepest bronze, his face strong and beardless, his silver hair cut close like an emperor. The celestial figure held up his hands for silence. When his voice rang out—deep and sonorous, speaking flawless, commanding Greek—his every word could be heard.

  “I am János Mehta.”

  Hypatia regarded him with concealed wariness, and she could see that Calix was doing the same.

  “Listen to me now,” he said. “Do not be afraid. I have come from a very great distance to help you in these dark times. You are terrified. You are confused, but believe me, I will ease your fears and uncertainty. The truth is, a new age dawns soon—so rejoice! Your deliverance is at hand!”

  A great cheer rose from the citizenry. He gestured to the woman kneeling at the foot of the ramp.

  “To show my friendship, and to prove that what I say is true, here is a gift from me to your pharaoh—” He halted for the slightest of moments, but recovered. However, the error did not escape Hypatia’s notice. “From me to your emperor.” The slave girl pulled back the covering of her golden tray and lifted it for all to see, eliciting another gasp of wonder. It was piled high with diamonds, rubies, and a rainbow of other precious stones, none smaller than a quail egg, the largest the size of a fist.

  The girl strode up to Hypatia and Calix, where she knelt once again and bowed her head, holding out the tray. Hypatia bent down to accept the offering. As she took hold of the tray, however, the slave girl quickly raised her face, distress clear in her green eyes.

  “Listen to me,” she whispered urgently. “Don’t trust him, don’t come close to him—and for the love of God, you cannot let him anywhere near your king—not even in the same room. You cannot.”

  Stunned, Hypatia gave a barely perceptible nod in reply. The girl bowed her head back down, a submissive slave once again. Lifting the tray, Hypatia faced the man on the ramp.

  “We, the city and people of Alexandria, thank you on behalf of our prefect.”

  Calix stepped forward. “János Mehta, I am Calix, magistrianos to my Lord Orestes, praefectus augustalis of the Diocese of Egypt, himself the faithful servant to the Roman Emperor Flavius Theodosius Augustus. The great and noble lady at my side is Hypatia, the noted mathematician, astronomer, philosopher, and head of the Neoplatonist school. Let us be the first to welcome you to our beloved city and extend you every courtesy. The prefect wishes you to come to the palace today as his honored guest.”

  Hypatia flinched at t
he thought but kept silent, resisting the impulse to look at the slave girl. János Mehta gave a regal nod of his head.

  “Excellent,” he said. “I wish nothing more than to meet your lord, and very soon.”

  “Splendid,” Calix said, bowing courteously. “We shall return at noon with a palanquin and an honor guard to escort you.”

  “That will not be necessary,” Mehta replied. “I shall take my ship there. Inform your prefect that I look forward to seeing him shortly. Until then, farewell!” He raised a hand to the awestruck crowds and then turned, ascending the ramp, followed by his three slaves. The ramp retreated, the hatch shut, and the ship effortlessly lifted up into the heavens again.

  Calix and Hypatia stood respectfully watching for as long as protocol demanded. As soon as it was once again just a light in the sky, they turned the tray of jewels over to the captain of the honor guard for safe delivery. Keeping their decorum as they stepped back into their chariot, they rode out with their honor guard. Then, as soon as they cleared the stadium grounds, Onesimus whipped the horses into a gallop.

  27

  The Faiyum Oasis, North Africa

  Seven days after the Event

  “Ship, what was that thing?” Amber asked the rover, which kept pace with them just above her shoulder.

  “I believe its scientific name is Sarcosuchus imperator, meaning ‘flesh crocodile emperor,’ a genus of crocodyliform dating from the early Cretaceous Period.”

  “That crocodile was as big as a whale!”

  “You are correct.”

  Clinging to Cam, Amber leaned her weary head against his solid, comforting back. She had to hand it to him—for a first-century Celt, Cam piloted the hoverbike as if he’d flown one for years. They continued to skim over the surface of the lake until any trace of shore was completely lost to sight.

  “Are we on a lake, or a sea?” Cam asked Amber.

  The rover chimed in before she could answer.